


Through It All

by Space_Cadet_Blues



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, CEO Hank, Connor Deserves Happiness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Receptionist Connor, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Top Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_Blues/pseuds/Space_Cadet_Blues
Summary: They cross paths coincidentally on a train one night, what comes after is complicated.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91





	Through It All

Leaning on the bar at the back of the small venue, Connor knocks back a JD and coke and waits for the first supporting act to come out on stage. The room is alive with laughter and a steady hum of chatter, the buzz of excitement almost manifesting physically around him. He chases a bead of condensation down the side of his plastic cup with the tip of his index finger and sighs. He checks his phone. 

**Leo** : Hey, sorry Connor. I can’t make it tonight, had to work late. Enjoy the concert and take some pictures for me. It’s been a while, can’t believe they’re on tour again!

Connor types back a hasty: _I can’t believe it either. Will do. Don’t work too hard_.

He ignores the message that comes in hot on the heels of his reply.

 **Leo** : No chance of that! Hey, If you need to talk after-

Connor locks and pockets his phone, swivelling on his stool to face the stage.

***

By the time the second act is done his heart is hammering. The Knights of the Black Death are next. Knocking back the last of his 5th and final drink he makes his way to the front. The crowd is dense and warm, heavy with the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke. It makes Connor dizzy with nostalgia. He manages to squeeze through to where the barrier is set up and takes a spot off to the right of the stage next to several towering speakers. His ears will be ringing by the end of the night but he knows the experience will be worth it. 

When the band walks out to thunderous cheers and whoops from the crowd that converges tightly around Connor, all he can do is stare. He’s so close he can see how each member has changed in the decade since he last saw them live. 

The first handful of songs he doesn’t recognise. They’re newer and he hasn’t picked up an album of theirs since he stopped listening to them after high school. But the moment the first notes of an intro to a song he knows inside and out is played, it feels as though the breath has been knocked out of him. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end and his skin breaks out into gooseflesh. Suddenly his heartbeat is almost louder than the pounding of the drums and he’s thrown backwards in time. 

_We fight so hard to take flight_

_With battered paper wings and endless dreams_

_This town is too small to hold us_

_Warm and welcome hands on his skin, breath tickling the shell of his ear. Cigarettes and cheap beer. Marijuana and the reverberation of speakers. The purr of an engine._

_“One day I’m gonna get us the fuck out of here.”_

_“Oh yeah?”_

_“Yeah. You wait and see kitten”_

By the last song he feels raw, spent of emotional energy but somehow weirdly energised. After the show the band sits behind a long table surrounded by merchandise and Connor joins the queue of people wanting autographs, taking a battered copy of their first album out of his messenger bag. 

“Who do I make it out to?” the lead singer asks when it’s Connor’s turn. 

Connor’s answer is immediate. 

***

The air sobers him up some and the energised feeling persists all the way to the train station. He gets on the last blissfully empty carriage and picks a window seat in the centre. 

Checking his phone and re-reading through his messages he suddenly feels very stupid. Of course Leo wouldn’t have shown up. He’s busy, always busy. The same with the rest of the old gang. They communicate mostly through social media and apps these days. He’s sure he’ll get a message from Markus tomorrow asking him if he’s okay for wanting to hang out with his deadbeat older brother. 

Leo and Connor’s _thing_ had began and ended before college. After... everything. Markus had not approved out of concern for Connor. Connor still remembers the disappointed look on his face when he’d told him. But it was never anything serious, a brief fling. They liked music. They liked hanging out with no pressure. Though in reflection Connor knows it was more of a self destructive move on his part. He and Leo are two very different people with similar interests. That’s all.

Connor clutches his bag tight and flushes. He’d prepped just in case Leo did decide to make an appearance, like an idiot. Because for some reason he needs some sort of casual intimacy. He needs someone to take his mind off of...

A man steps into the carriage drawing his attention. He’s older, with a Knights of the Black Death t-shirt peeking out from under his brown leather jacket. He doesn’t seem to notice Connor as he takes a parallel seat across the isle. But Connor takes in his appearance. Tall, broad, silver hair, handsome in a rugged kind of way. How had Connor not spotted him at the concert. 

Connor's eyes roam once more over his form and suddenly Connor’s needy desperation spills over, stamping out all rational thought, and he finds himself trying to catch this man’s eye. 

He wants those big hands on him, wants to feel this stranger's beard tickle his skin. Wants to be used up and pushed to his limit so he can feel something. _Anything_. 

The man might not even be interested. Connor might even get beat up for looking but that’s fine too he decides. He just needs something to happen. 

Hopefully. Hopefully. 

Please. 

_Please_.

***

Hank boards the train buzzed from the concert. Ears ringing and pulse pounding. The little amount of alcohol in his system wrapping his elation in a fuzzy feel-good haze. He hasn't seen Knights of the Black Death in years. Hasn't had the time to treat himself to concert tickets. He's glad he took the time to see them. 

Moving into the centre of the carriage he settles in a seat by the window. It takes a couple of hours to get back into the city so he shifts to get comfortable, thinking about maybe taking a nap. But then he decides he's too awake for that.

After a couple of minutes he gets the distinct feeling he's being watched. He glances across the isle to his right and his breath catches in his throat.

Across the isle sits a young man probably in his mid 20s. Dark hair and warm eyes that seem to twinkle curiously as he meets Hank's gaze. He has the most angelic face Hank has ever seen on a person. Masculine but soft at the edges.

The young man looks away, gazing out the window before glancing back to see if Hank is still looking. It doesn't feel awkward. It feels tense, like a thread pulled taut. Like they've made some sort of connection. Hank, confidence boosted by his good mood, winks.

The man smiles and gently bites his lower lip. Hank feels hot all over, warmth rushing into his cheeks and pooling in his belly. It's been a hell of a long time since someone looked at him like _that_.

He's extremely flattered considering the state he must look. Black shirt open around a ratty band t-shirt. Faded blue jeans. His hair hangs about his ears, slightly damp with sweat from the humidity of the venue. He's pretty sure he smells a little like beer too.  
But apparently that doesn't put his admirer off, whose gaze drags slowly over Hank's large form appreciatively. 

Hank takes the time to return the favour, taking in the young man’s lithe body from head to toe.

After a few moments of sizing each other up the young man tucks his bag under his seat and flicks his eyes to the unoccupied bathroom a few feet away and then back to Hank in a silent question that makes Hank flush. Hank watches him slink out into the isle and over to the restroom, pausing in the doorway to give Hank an inviting look before disappearing inside.

Hank realises, belatedly, that there's no one else inside the carriage. He stares in disbelief for a few seconds before he's up out of his seat and following. Pulse pounding.

The young man leans into him as soon as the door closes, reaching behind Hank to click the lock. 

"Hi," Hank says dumbly. 

"Hello," the man says with amusement in his voice before pulling Hank into a kiss, fingers curling against his nape.

Soft lips then teeth and tongue. Hank makes an embarrassing noise at the back of his throat because God he hasn't felt like this since... Well, he can't even remember the last time. Before the divorce at least. Certainly before the promotion.

He touches gently, large hands sneaking under the young man's black leather jacket to feel the warmth of him through the white t-shirt underneath.

The stranger breaks the kiss but doesn't go far. "What do you want me to call you?" he whispers against Hank's lips, sugar sweet.

"Hank," Hank says immediately because God, the things he wants to do to this guy, he wants to hear his actual name roll off that tongue. "What about you?"

The stranger considers this for a moment and then his eyes soften. "Connor." 

Hank thinks that might be his real name. Somehow, in a weird way, that _matters_. It makes this so much better.

'Connor' rests a hand on Hank's broad chest and hums thoughtfully. "Well Hank, you're a big guy, I'm kind of hoping the same can be said of whatever you're packing."

It's said flirtatiously, like he already knows the answer. 

Hank strokes a warm hand down his side and watches him shiver. "You should have a feel and find out," he says, because he's horny and for some reason this guy has him eager to impress.

Connor molds himself to Hank's front and they sway with the movement of the train as Connor pops the button on Hank’s jeans. Hank gives a breathy sigh as Connor's warm hand gropes him through the soft material of his boxers, stroking up then down. Squeezing a couple of times.

"Holy _shit_ ," Connor whispers, like he's hit the jackpot.

Hank laughs. "Good enough?"

Connor groans in what sounds like relief. "You don't even know." 

Hank laughs again good-naturedly.

"You wanna fuck me? Hank?" Connor asks.  
Hank feels his cock throb at that and Connor gives him another squeeze. 

"I think you already know the answer to that one kid." 

Connor kisses him again, but his hands are elsewhere. Hank hears the clink of a belt and then the rustle of clothing.

Connor breaks away and withdraws a condom from his jacket pocket. And it's just then that Hank recognises the smell on him.

"You were at the concert?" Hank asks, holding Connor steady as he fusses with pushing Hank's jeans down, his own already pushed to mid thigh. 

"Yeah," he says, sounding very much like he doesn't want to elaborate. Maybe he was there on a date and it went sour? It would explain this situation at least. Unless Connor frequently fucks strangers on trains. But Hank gets the feeling that, that isn't the case somehow.

Connor is giving off a strange vibe. Like he needs this. Hank is more than happy to be of service. 

Connor slips his fingers under the waistband of Hank's underwear. "You good?" He asks. 

Hank resists the urge to laugh and ask him if he's crazy. "More than good," He says, voice an octave deeper and Connor seems to like that. He shivers again. 

Connor pushes his underwear down, giving Hank a kiss before glancing down. 

" _Jesus Christ_ Hank. You got a permit for that thing?"

Hank barks a laugh. "Yeah okay hot shot, you gonna stare at it all night or what?"

Connor huffs in amusement and takes him in hand, feeling him out. Clever fingers squeeze him from base to tip with perfect pressure. 

" _Fuck_ ," Hank groans.

Connor keeps on like that, keeping each stroke measured and teasingly slow. He meets Hank's gaze after watching Hank harden in his hand. Connor’s pupils are blown wide, and there's a wild look to him as he tears open the condom packet with his teeth.

Hank gulps. 

He keeps Connor steady, holding onto his hips while both of Connor’s hands are occupied.

Suddenly the warm pressure of Connor's hand around his cock is gone and Connor is hurriedly rolling a condom onto Hank's thick length. It doesn't even reach the base but Connor doesn't seem to care.

He kisses Hank as he pulls him around so that Hank can stand behind him. There isn't much room to move. The toilet is just behind Hank's legs and Connor has just enough space to bend over the sink in front of him.  
The train jolts a little and Connor holds onto the sink, glancing round at Hank before using one hand to push his underwear down. 

" _Fuck me_ Hank," he says, voice breathless, desperate.

Hank cups his cheeks and spreads him. His hole glistens in the light from the grotty fixture overhead. Bad date then. Well. Hopefully Hank can make up for that. Whoever the guy was, he's sure as fuck missing out on something special.

Connor groans impatiently. "Don't bother working me up to it. Already there. Just need you inside me, please." 

The desperation in his voice grips Hank by the dick and almost guides him into that tight, wet hole by itself.

Their eyes meet in the mirror and Connor nods, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly open.   
Hank eases into him slowly and Connor comes apart beautifully. Body shaking and voice carrying over the clack of the train as it races along the track.

Hank groans as he watches himself slowly disappear into Connor's body, he rubs at his hips, grabbing him there and pulling him onto his cock. Connor moans deep in his chest at that, cursing and mumbling " _fuck yes_ " on repeat.

Another minute or two and Hank is balls deep inside him, trying his best to keep them both steady as he presses deep into Connor on every thrust, making him shake and gasp.

Connor sobs, chest almost pressed to the sink, knuckles white on the porcelain. He trembles every time Hank bottoms out, moans ratcheting up into little shouts. In between it all he begs Hank to keep going, to keep giving it to him.

Hank's searching fingers dip under the hem of Connor's t-shirt and travel up over the plane of his quivering belly to his shuddering chest. Hank finds his nipples and pinches them, _hard_. Connor shouts and clenches impossibly tight around Hank's cock.

"Oh _fuck_ , Hank, _ngh_ ~ fuck!"

Hank gasps and makes his next few thrusts a little harder. 

"Connor," He groans. 

"Fuck! Hank, don't stop, please Hank, please." 

Hank kisses him just behind the ear and stops playing with his chest to wrap his arms securely around him.

Hank steadies his footing a little more and pulls Connor down hard onto his cock as he shoves into him over and over, harder and harder.

Hank has to cover Connor's mouth because he's not sure if anyone has gotten on the carriage. Hell he's not even sure if the train has stopped at all. It's like they're in their own private capsule where time doesn't matter. All that matters is _this_. What's happening between them.

Connor is sobbing and crying out into his palm, desperately trying to grind back against him but he can't quite keep up with Hank's brutal rhythm.

Hank takes his hand away and Connor is a mess, hurriedly murmuring encouragement, trying to be quieter and failing.

"Hank, Hank, I'm going to come. Please, _please_."

"Okay baby, okay," Hank soothes.

His thrusting is quicker, more shallow, he knows he's nailing Connor's sweet spot because Connor is shaking all over, muscles fluttering as he clings to the sink for dear life. His voice lost.

Hank holds him up, keeps him pressed against his chest, murmurs praise into his ear and tells him how beautiful he is. And then Connor is coming, writhing in Hank's arms. 

Streaks of white hit the side of the sink and the mirror. Hank holds him tight grinding hard into him.

"Fuuuck~ Hank~"

Connor squirms free and off him and before he knows what's happening Connor is on his knees on the filthy floor, peeling off the condom and wrapping his lips around Hank's cock.

That clever hand is back, squeezing from throbbing root to tip, once, twice, before Connor's mouth closes around the head again. And that's it, Hank explodes. His orgasm knifes through him, white hot like a live wire and when he empties into Connor's mouth Connor doesn't miss a fucking drop.

He swallows it all and keeps going a beat or two after its become a little uncomfortable. Only then does he release Hank.

Hank stumbles back a little and collapses onto the lid of the toilet. Connor kneels at his feet, eyes closed, mouth open and spit-shiny. His chest heaves for the breath he's trying to get back into his lungs. 

He's gorgeous. Hank thinks. Not for the first time tonight.

Eventually Connor opens his eyes. 

"You okay there?" Hank manages, busy trying to get his own breath back.

"Fuck. I'm good. Really good." Connor smiles. "Thank you Hank."

Hank laughs. "I feel like I should be thanking you."

Connor stands, recovering quicker than Hank - making him a little jealous - and puts himself in order. He throws the condom into the sanitary bin and holds out a hand to help Hank up.

Once they are both somewhat decent they carefully make their way back to their seats, but this time they both sit either side of the isle in the seats closest to each other, Connor having retrieved his bag.

The carriage is still blissfully empty.

They sit in silence for the rest of the journey but for some reason it's oddly comfortable and when Connor's stop arrives - one before Hank's - he flashes Hank a smile. 

“See you around Hank," he says softly.

Hank feels his chest tighten not sure what else he expected. This was a random one time thing after all. Shame. But if that's what Connor wants. 

Hank smiles. "Goodnight Connor."

Then he's gone. And Hank is alone.

***

Hank wakes with the echoes of the previous evening reverberating in his mind. He gets showered and dressed in a daze and the more he thinks about Connor’s voice, his touch, the feel of his soft skin under Hank’s hands, the more Hank wishes he could of given Connor his number. 

Not that the kid would have called him but it would have been nice to express his interest. But he didn’t give Connor his number so he has to make peace with that. At least he has the memories.

He manages to push Connor somewhat out of his mind by the time he hits the morning traffic and once he is sat behind his desk he’s all but focussed on the busy day ahead. 

At 10am there’s a knock on his office door and he looks up to see the HR manager Tina Chen peering through the glass, expression sunny. No doubt she’s here to torture him on his first day back from his much needed break.

He waves her in with a slight frown and almost drops his coffee mug when he sees the tall, well dressed figure standing behind her. 

“Good morning Hank. I’ve come to introduce the newbie. This is Connor Stern. Our new receptionist. Connor this is Hank Anderson, CEO, the big boss himself. Big man on campus.”

“Tina,” Hank chides half heartedly. 

Connor’s eyes are wide for a moment, but he reigns himself in quickly and approaches Hank’s desk along with Tina. 

He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a smile. 

Hank stands and clears his throat taking Connor’s offered hand in a brief shake, trying not to remember how those slender fingers felt wrapped around his- “You too. First day huh?”

Connor nods. His expression wiped clean. Acting like they’ve never met. Like Hank hasn’t held that slim waist in his hands. Like Connor doesn’t know what it’s like to feel Hank inside him-

“You okay Hank? You look a little red, if you’ve got a cold you better not give it to me,” Tina comments with a laugh. 

Hank sits back down at his desk signifying the visit it over. “I do feel a little under the weather. Best steer clear of me today.”

“Gladly,” Tina says, backing away from the desk. “C’mon newbie. We’ve got a couple more offices to visit.” 

Connor nods, following Tina’s lead. 

“Have a nice day Hank,” Tina chirps. 

“Same to you.”

As soon as the door closes Hank immediately has to suppress the urge to scream. What are the odds! What are the fucking odds! Hank has never fraternised with a colleague in his life, it’s inappropriate. Especially a colleague he holds any sort of power over. 

He takes a few calming breaths. It’s okay. He can just work through the awkwardness. It’s not as though he knew at the time that Connor was newly employed here.

... But did Connor know who Hank was? He _had_ looked surprised but had gotten over it pretty quickly. Then he remembers, Connor’s words.

_See you around Hank._

Was this what he meant? 

***

At close of day Hank takes the lift to the ground floor and steps out into the lobby, polished shoes clicking on the marble floor. 

Connor is sat at the sleek glass front desk, arranging the post. Hank approaches, clearing his throat. 

“Connor?”

Connor looks up, fixing Hank with a wary look. “Yes sir?”

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” Connor swivels in his chair. “Is there something you need?”

Hank leans on the desk and glances over his shoulder before speaking, keeping his voice low. “Did you know?”

“Know what?”

Hank feels a stab of irritation. The nerve of this kid. His voice automatically takes on a more stern edge. “Know my position in the company. Last night... Did you know who I was?”

Connor frowns as Hank's words sink in, genuine anger clouding his eyes. “You mean did I _stalk_ you, and sleep with you in order to cut myself a better deal in regards to a promotion? No I did not. Good evening Mr Anderson.” And with that he turns to resume his work, angrily stuffing letters into envelopes. 

Hank feels relief wash over him quickly chased by guilt that burns red into the skin at the back of his neck. “Connor-“

“I hope you brought an umbrella, it’s raining outside. Good _evening_ , Mr Anderson.” He doesn’t look up again.

Hank turns to the sliding front doors, rain now pattering against the glass. He spares Connor a final glance before walking out into the downpour, heart heavy.


End file.
